


Never Letting Go

by infinisei



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 08:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15945248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinisei/pseuds/infinisei
Summary: “My apologies for my son’s attitude,” the woman said smoothly. “This was supposed to be a vacation for us but, due to unfortunate and unforeseen events, things had gone a bit awry. You saved my son’s life, and so I owe you a debt.”“Like I told your son, that’s really not necessary.” Karen glanced between the two of them. “I’m just happy that it all worked out.”“I owe you a debt,” the woman’s eyes glowed, “and I intend to pay it.”





	Never Letting Go

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to ohmypreciousgirl and tigrrli for being the best betas out there <3

_Please don't go, I've been waiting so long_

_Oh, you don't even know me at all_

_But I was made for loving you_

_I was made for loving you_

_Even though we may be hopeless hearts just passing through_

_Every bone screaming I don't know what we should do_

_All I know is, darling, I was made for loving you_

\- “I Was Made for Loving You” by Tori Kelly

 

The clattering of her keys echoed the rattling sigh.

 

It had been another long day.

 

Karen had gone chasing a lead on Kingpin, and had gotten a little more than she’d bargained for. Kingpin had set a trap for her, ready to finally get revenge for Wesley’s murder.

 

And it had been a truly gruesome plan of revenge Fisk had come up with. Ever since she’d emptied a clip into Wesley’s chest, she couldn’t stop imagining her death at Fisk’s hands—be it getting shot, stabbed, or strangled.

 

But Kingpin had apparently decided to get creative: burying her alive.

 

Kingpin’s goon had leverage in the form of a kid, tied-up with a gun to his head. Karen could only lower her gun and consolingly convinced the guy not to shoot the boy. He let her close enough so that, when he least expected it, she struck the gun away from his hand and pushed the boy away to safety. The boy ran, and she moved to follow, when there was a screech of tires and more of Kingpin’s goons cut her off. Eventually, one of them got behind her and Karen felt unconsciousness slam into her like a freight train, and only woke up just as they finished digging her soon-to-be-grave.

 

Karen had been forced into a coffin and pounded desperately on the lid even as it was nailed shut. She’d both heard and felt the impact of her being lowered to the bottom of the hole. Then, what little vision she had in the darkness slowly disappeared as more and more soil was piled on top. Soon, she couldn’t even see her hand waving in front of her face. The only sound she could hear was the sound of herself screaming for help.

 

She’d thought that would be the end of it. She had no idea how long she was trapped in there for—minutes, hours, days—until faint noise began filtering through the dirt. She began sobbing as soon as she could make out a voice. _Frank._

 

It wasn’t soon enough before the wooden lid was pried open and there he was. Frank, his arms reaching for her, pulling her out of her grave. She spotted Matt behind him in his Daredevil suit, and Jessica finishing off the last of the goons. Dozens of bodies scattered the ground, the dirt stained dark with blood. It appeared as if Matt had lost the long-standing argument with Frank about how to defeat their enemies.

 

The only reason Frank let her go was because of the sirens that approached. Jessica urged him to “get a fucking move on”, and with a look of agonizing regret, Frank joined the other vigilantes so that the trio could vanish onto the rooftops, leaving her sitting next to her open grave.

 

After that followed the usual routine: getting checked by paramedics, picked up by the police, questioned by detectives, released hours later in the middle of the night with a warning to not leave town and to get some well-deserved rest.

 

It had been another long day in a recent string of long days. Honestly, it was getting to the point where she’d have to call this a regular day instead of a long one.

 

Finally at home, Karen dropped her purse on the counter, then switched on the floor lamp with a push of her foot.

 

She surveyed the room, unchanged since she’d left, tidy and comforting and nothing like the mess of events that had happened today. The familiarity finally let her shake off those prickles of adrenaline.

 

It was still there, though. The only thing that would make it go away completely was—

 

Corded arms wrapped around her waist, holding her tightly to a body behind her.

 

She didn’t even flinch. Didn’t even have to turn around. She knew who it was.

 

Frank clung to her as if she were about to dissolve into dust at any moment.

 

“Goddamnit, Karen,” he breathed, his voice rough as gravel from anger and something more.

 

She wrapped one hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to her while gripping his forearm around her.

 

And, like she knew it would, that tension in the back of her neck, along her spine, simply crumbled away.

 

It could’ve been minutes, it could’ve been hours before his grip on her loosened and she turned around to face him.

 

Out of all the times she’d seen Frank Castle come out of a fight, this one was the one where he’d come out the least scathed. It didn’t even look like he’d gotten scratched.

 

That didn’t mean there weren’t still wounds beneath his skin, though. There were always ghosts haunting him behind his eyes, but the shadows seemed particularly long when she looked into them now. Today had toed the edges of one of his worst fears.

 

He raised his hand to brush his knuckles across her cheek. “Are you alright?”

 

She smiled at him softly. “I’m fine,” she reassured him.

 

A muscle in his jaw twitched. He didn’t like that. “Why didn’t you call me about the Fisk tip?”

“I wasn’t sure it was legit. Buddy isn’t exactly known for reliable information, and Ellison was nagging me about how they couldn’t print anything that had Buddy’s prints on it without further proof.”

 

His eyes flashed at that. “So you decided to go into a building that you suspected was housing Fisk’s goons, even the man himself?”

 

“Like I said, it wasn’t reliable information. And the building was reported to be regularly used by two local businesses.”

 

“You still should’ve called me,” he insisted.

 

She shook her head even as she was lacing her fingers through his. “It’s not your job to look after me.”

 

That hurt. He took a step back. “You think this is a job to me?”

 

“Frank—”

 

“You think that you’re just an obligation? Same as the people I save when I put on that vest?” His voice rose. He rocked side to side in place. His gaze circled between half a dozen places. The window, the crack on the ceiling, the glow of the microwave clock, her notes scattered on the coffee table, an old glass of water next to the sink, then back around.

 

“No, that’s not what I think,” she cried out in exasperation, her agitation rising with his.

 

“Then don’t you fucking dare tell me it’s not my place to know when you’re in danger!” he snarled, confronting her again. He only stopped until he was only inches away from her. “Don’t you dare think I won’t be there whenever someone is threatening you, or pointing a gun at you, or trying to fucking bury you _alive_ —”

 

“And I get that, but—” Karen pressed her fingers to her forehead. “You’re trying to move away from this life. From being The Punisher. And I’ll be damned if I’m the reason you’re drawn back to that life.”

 

He cupped her cheeks with his hands fiercely. “I’ll happily spray-paint a thousand vests if it means keeping you safe!”

 

“Were you not just listening to me? I won’t be the reason you get shot or stabbed or whatever horrible thing that’s happening out there. I love you, and—”

 

His grip on her tightened before he sealed his mouth to hers.

 

She would never get over Frank Castle kissing her. She always knew that he felt deeply, that it was the reason behind why he’d been such an amazing husband and father, why The Punisher was so feared. There was never any deception to how he was feeling whenever he kissed her. On the contrary, actually; they seemed to have entire conversations with teeth and tongue.

 

 _I could have lost you tonight_ , he said with the first kiss.

 

 _You didn’t_ , she replied with a nip to his lip.

 

 _I can’t ever lose you_ , he imprinted the words along the crook of her neck.

 

She took ahold of his head, tugging on what little hair he had with his military-style buzzcut. She kissed him deep and long and poured her heart into him. _You won’t._

 

He angled her towards the bedroom. She gave in easily, trusting him to guide her safely.

 

Her legs hit the bed, and there wasn’t much arguing done after that.

 

~~~

 

She woke up for no reason at all in the middle of the night.

 

It was quiet outside, no distant sirens or passing cars or blaring music or rambunctious teenagers singing obnoxiously out on the street.

 

Frank was still asleep, which was an abnormality. Usually, when Karen stirred, no matter how quiet or still she was, he snapped into consciousness seconds later. It was as if he had some sort of radar, always responding to her. Karen knew it was something he’d done since the war, and had only been sharpened and honed since he took on The Punisher mantle. It was very likely to always be with him, to his dying breath; it was simply a part of him now.

 

Last night must have exhausted him more than she’d realized.

 

Mind oddly wired and unable to quieten, she carefully extricated herself from his embrace. He deserved any sleep he could get, and she was not about to do anything to disturb that. Maybe she’d watch some trash TV for a little bit, or get started on her Kingpin piece.

 

She tightened the blanket around her shoulders as she waited for her cup of tea to steep. She had set the mug onto the coffee table and was about to sit down when there was a knock on the door.

 

She frowned at the sound. It was three in the morning; who could that possibly be?

 

A trickle of adrenaline rushed through her veins. She moved quickly to her purse where her 0.380 was kept. She pulled it out, cocking it.

 

She glanced back to the bedroom. There were no signs of movement, no signs that Frank had heard their visitor. She mentally waged an internal battle. Should she wake him up? Their argument was fresh in her mind, and Frank would be furious if something dangerous was at the door and she hadn’t woken him up.

 

She crept to the door, leaning forward to peer into the peephole.

 

Blue eyes glared sullenly at her.

 

She drew back abruptly in surprise. It was the boy from the warehouse, the one that she’d saved. How had he found her?

 

She kept her gun half-raised as she opened the door, making no move to hide it from the boy’s sight. “Hi,” she said warily. “What are you doing here?”

 

She didn’t really mean to sound so rude, but the whole thing resonated wrongly with her. She’d accept being labeled a bitch if it meant she’d stay safe.

 

Plus, the kid seemed more annoyed about being there. “I have to thank you,” he groused at her, not even bothering to conceal his pout.

 

Karen’s eyebrows furrowed. “It’s okay,” she replied slowly. “I’m glad that you’re safe. No need to stop by.”

 

“No, I have to thank you.” He rolled his eyes and folded his arms around his chest. “Give compensation and all that.”

 

“I really don’t need any money,” she insisted.

 

A woman suddenly appeared next to the boy, startling Karen. She’d sworn that there wasn’t anyone else there. She looked around Karen’s age, and was easily one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen. She had perfectly toned olive skin and supple black hair twisted elegantly into a bun. She hissed into the boy’s ear.

 

He scowled at the woman. “Why don’t you do it then?” he snapped at her.

 

She sighed exasperatedly at the child before turning to Karen with an apologetic look. “My apologies for my son’s attitude,” the woman said smoothly. “This was supposed to be a vacation for us but, due to unfortunate and unforeseen events, things had gone a bit awry. You saved my son’s life, and so I owe you a debt.”

 

“Like I told your son, that’s really not necessary.” Karen glanced between the two of them. “I’m just happy that it all worked out.”

 

“ _I owe you a debt,_ ” the woman’s eyes glowed, “ _and I intend to pay it_.”

 

Mother and son glowed brightly, before the glamour around them dissolved and their true visages emerged.

 

The woman’s face melted away to reveal a mask of gold with holes to reveal two black, empty voids for eyes. Ornate, heavy robes adorned her body, and her hair was suddenly organized into the most elaborate, almost Oriental updo, with not a strand out of place.

 

Beside her, her son was still wearing an expression of boredom but, instead of jeans and a sweater, he wore an outfit fit for a medieval prince. He sported a rich, heavily ornamented tunic and trousers with matching leggings and a cloak. All of it was inlaid in a gold matching the boy’s hair.

 

The pair of them radiated power, more power than Karen had ever witnessed in her life.

 

The gun clattered to the ground from Karen’s numb fingers.

 

“ _Have no fear, child_ ,” the masked woman—creature, whatever she was—spoke to her. The power behind her words pricked over Karen’s skin. “ _I mean you no harm._ ”

 

Karen swallowed thickly, desperately trying to think of a way to get out of this situation alive. “I’m...glad to hear it?” Karen croaked. Her instincts were screaming at her to run as far away from these beings as possible, but her feet stayed glued to the ground. Not that she thought that running would do much good.

 

“I will grant you one wish in exchange for Mordred’s life,” the enchantress told Karen.

 

“A wish?”

 

“One request, and the debt will be repaid.”

 

Karen tugged at the blanket over her shoulders. “Wh—what can I request?”

 

The boy—Mordred, Karen supposed—snorted as though that was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. “Mummy’s the most powerful being in this entire universe.” The kid didn’t say it in a boastful manner; to him, it was simply fact, like the way gravity worked. “She could give you anything you desire.”

 

“Anything,” Karen repeated, her mind spinning.

 

‘Mummy’ lovingly carded her fingers through her boy’s hair. “I know many spells, Karen Page. Matter, power, time—they all bend to my will.”

 

“Time,” Karen fixated on that word. “You mean you could change things?”

 

The witch tilted her head in a way that looked disturbingly like an animated doll from a horror movie. “There are some things that are fixed in this universe. Things that cannot change, else the universe unravels. Your ‘Battle of New York’, for instance, or what happened in Sokovia.”

 

Karen couldn’t help but feel a crushing defeat. All those people who died, the families that’d been torn apart—how unjust was the fabric of the universe when such a massacre was part of its very foundation?

 

What’s more, out of all the things that she could wish for, which one should she pick?

 

The masked woman seemed to read her dilemma. “It appears that you hurt more from your love’s suffering than your own,” she mentioned offhandedly.

 

Karen gaped at her. “You can do that?” she whispered. “You can save his family?”

 

“I can,” she acknowledged with a nod.

 

Feeling the enormity of the moment, Karen covered her mouth, tears welling in her eyes.

 

Every day, she witnessed the havoc the deaths of his family had wrought upon the man she loved. It was a constant, ever-present agony, and Karen knew that he would give his life if he could bring them back in a heartbeat.

 

She could give him back the life that had been so wrongly taken from him. She could make it so that he would never have to become The Punisher, the most feared creature in Hell’s Kitchen. She could save him years’ worth of pain and suffering.

 

But he would never grow to love her, would never hold her or kiss her or tell her he loved her.

 

But if that was the only price to pay for Frank’s happiness, how could she refuse?

 

Karen could feel her heart breaking in her chest as she nodded. “Yes. I...I want that.”

 

“Very well.” The sorcerer raised her hand, green fire swirling around her fingertips.

 

In the time between the motion of the enchantress’ hand and the obscuring of her vision in emerald green, Karen could only think about how she hadn’t gotten time to say goodbye.

 

~~~

 

Were someone to ask Karen what time travel was like, Karen would immediately say Apparition.

 

It was weird that her mind went instantly to a Harry Potter spell but, as soon as her world was consumed in green flames, her body felt as if it were being squeezed into a pipe. Her body felt kneaded, yanked in so many directions before being smushed back together. She was twisted inside out, straining to get oxygen into her lungs. A kaleidoscope of color flashed disorientingly in front of her.

 

And then she was standing, her limbs tingling from their sudden freedom, the only light coming from the streetlamps.

 

It took two seconds for her to catch up to her abrupt release from the spell. She sucked in hiccupping gasps first, her lungs greedily taking in as much oxygen as it could. She blinked rapidly to adjust to the low light of the evening. Slowly, her brain began filtering the noise from the street.

 

Head snapping back and forth, she tried taking in her surroundings as much as she could.

 

The air was hot and dry, the sun beating heavily down on her. The first thing Karen noted was how short the buildings were—mostly two-stories, at most four. Cars rushed past in the street, but they were old models, not a common sight in New York.

 

None of this seemed familiar to her. Turning around, Karen found herself facing a stand with a large collection of magazines and books. She hurried over and snatched up a magazine, caught off guard by the fact that the entire thing was in Pashto. No help there.

 

Frustrated, she was on the verge of wandering around until she found out what was going on, until a couple crossed her path, speaking English.

 

“Excuse me,” she called out. They stopped, stared at her pajamas in bafflement. “Could you tell me what date it is today?”

 

The pair exchanged a glance. “August 6ᵗʰ,” one of them replied.

 

“And the year?”

 

That got her even stranger looks. “It’s 2012.”

 

“2012,” Karen repeated in a daze. They hurried away from her.

 

_August 6ᵗʰ, 2012._

 

Okay, okay, okay. Why would the sorcerer send her here? She somewhat understood the choice of month and year; it was during Frank’s time in Kandahar under Operation Cerberus, before Micro sent the video of Zubair’s execution, before the Castle family was attacked.

 

But why send Karen to Afghanistan on this particular day? Was she supposed to find Frank?

 

A group of people exited a bar across from her, and the loud, pumping music caught her attention. Most of the bystanders were men, buzzed and laughing and joking amongst each other. The only one that stood apart was a familiar set of curls walking behind them.

 

“Madani,” Karen said out loud.

 

The then Homeland Security attaché didn’t hear her and was already almost a block away.

 

Karen scrambled to catch up, ignoring odd stares, mutterings, and the occasional curses as she pushed her way through the traffic on the sidewalk. She accidentally knocked over a stand filled with assorted fruit. She ignored the vendor’s angry shout and didn’t look back, desperately trying to keep Madani in sight.

 

She was so close to catching up to Madani when her wrist was grabbed by a stranger. His eyes were angry slits and he berated at her in a foreign tongue.

 

“I don’t understand,” Karen said helplessly. She tried tugging at his grip on her, but he remained immovable. “English? Do you speak English?”

 

His only response was to raise his voice, his interrogation-like tone only growing more prominent.

 

She twisted awkwardly, trying to peer over her shoulder. She could barely see the back of Madani’s head. “Madani!” Karen cried out frantically. “Dinah Madani!”

 

A sharp wrench at her arm spun her back around. The man shouted at her again, gesturing angrily behind him at the mess of fruit on the ground.

 

“I really am sorry about that, but it was an accident!”

 

“What seems to be the problem here?” a new voice cut in.

 

Madani appeared from thin air, her eyes cutting between them.

 

“Agent Madani,” Karen gasped, relief rushing through her.

 

The US operative cocked an eyebrow. “Do I know you?” she asked smoothly.

 

At the sight of the other woman, the merchant turned to Madani, venting his grievances.

 

Madani replied in Pashto, and then a rapid-fire exchange of words took place.

 

“This man says you ruined his goods for today,” Madani reported to Karen.

 

“And I’m sorry about that, but I swear that it was an accident,” Karen sighed.

 

Madani seemed to pass this along to the man, who emphatically shook his head. He said something to her in Pashto. “He says he won’t let you leave until you’ve paid for the damages.”

 

Karen made a disbelieving noise and motioned to the nightgown she was still wearing. “I don’t have any money!”

 

Madani eyed her odd state of attire. “Then you might want to wait for the police to get here so you can sort it out with them.”

 

“No, wait!” Karen stopped her. “I need to talk to you.”

 

“I’m sorry, but I have somewhere I need to be. You can reach me down at the station on Monday.” And with that, Karen’s only chance to save Frank’s family made to leave.

 

“No, please! I have to talk to you, it’s urgent!” Karen wracked her brain. “It’s about your partner!” she shouted. “It’s about Ahmad Zubair!”

 

At that, Madani froze. She wheeled around and marched straight back to Karen.

 

“What do you know about Zubair?” Madani snapped. “Do you know where he is?”

 

“So he’s missing,” Karen concluded for herself out loud.

 

Madani’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Yes, he’s been missing for three days now. But if you didn’t know that, then what information do you have on him?”

 

“Look, there’s a lot of things I need to tell you, and I don’t know how much time I have. Please…”

 

Madani took her vague pleas with a heavy dose of suspicion. “Alright, tell me.”

 

“No, I—I have to tell you in private. No videotapes, no voice recorders, no friends listening in the other room. Just us.” Karen glanced around suspiciously, almost expecting Schoonover or Rollins to jump out at them and stop her. With a bullet to the brain. “Please, lives are on the line.”

 

And maybe it was her words or the frightened seriousness in her expression. Maybe it was her clothes or the way she so obviously stood out from the crowd. Maybe it was Madani’s gut instinct that made her such a damn good agent. Either way, Karen thanked whatever gods or aliens or magical beings that were looking out for her that caused Madani to hand the merchant a fistful of bills before leading her away.

 

“If you’re just screwing with me,” Madani warned her, “I will have my friends at the station go after you and throw you in a jail cell.”

 

“Sure,” Karen agreed readily, rubbing at her sore wrist.

 

Madani led her up to the roof of an apartment building. “Alright, spill,” she ordered.

 

“Okay...” Karen said slowly. “First, you’re going to have to promise me to listen to the entire thing. No questions, no interruptions, no matter how crazy I sound.”

 

“You gonna start talking or should I just save myself the trouble and bring you straight to the precinct?”

 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Karen muttered, before beginning.

 

Karen had to give Madani credit for not balking immediately in incredulity at her story. Especially at the beginning— _so, your partner uncovered an illegal and secret US military operation called Operation Cerberus and was captured and likely already killed because he found out._

 

Madani let her go through the whole sad, morbid tale. About who was in Cerberus, what they’d done. How one man, Gunner Henderson, had realized what they were doing was wrong, had recorded Zubair’s interrogation, and would eventually send it to NSA analyst David Lieberman. And that Lieberman would send it to her, and it would cause Lieberman and Marine Frank Castle’s family to be killed in broad daylight.

 

When Karen finished, a level of exhaustion hit the woman like no other. Her voice had grown hoarse from talking so much, and there was this unsettling stillness that came from unloading the entire thing onto Madani. Because it was official now—she’d changed the future irrevocably. There was no going back now.

 

“So let me get this straight,” Madani finally said carefully. “You expect me to believe that there’s some kind of government conspiracy. My partner was killed from finding out, and the video of his murder will lead to the deaths of a NSA analyst with the codename Micro and the family of a Marine.”

 

Karen could only nod. “That pretty much covers it.”

 

“Okay…” Madani raised and dropped her arms to her sides as if to say, _Are you fucking kidding me?_ “And how do you know these things?”

 

Karen didn’t pull any punches in her answer; there was no point in trying to hide the truth. “Because I did an accidental favor for a sorceress from another universe and so she sent me back in time to fix this.”

 

At that, Madani threw her head back and burst out laughing. Apparently, that was one too many crazy things at once.

 

“No, seriously,” Madani said while still chortling. “Even if I were to believe all of this bullshit, why would _you_ do _this_?”

 

And fuck, that was the last question Karen needed. Because she could not think about what she’d left behind when she’d wished for this.

 

Sadly for her, Karen didn’t have that much of a poker face and was no match for an extremely  well-trained intelligence agent like Madani.

 

But before the agent could do anything, the entire world rippled, the air around them slowly swirling and flowing as if they were submerged in a thick syrup. All sound and motion stopped. An eerie silence followed.

 

Madani’s head whipped back and forth between Karen and the masked woman. “What...what is this?” Madani demanded, eyes wide. She drew her firearm quickly, aiming at Karen.

 

There was a flash behind Madani, and the witch appeared in all of her glory. The sorceress spoke from behind her. “ _It is time, Karen Page._ ”

 

Madani whirled around in alarm. “Who the fuck are you?” Like Karen had when the enchantress’ true nature was revealed, a deep shiver went through Madani. She took a step back. Wisely, she corrected her question. “ _What_ the fuck are you?”

 

“ _I am Morgaine le Fay, the most powerful sorceress in the multiverse, mother of the future King Mordred,_ ” the masked woman declared loudly as a pulse of power sent both human women staggering back a step. Her soulless eyes fixed on Karen. “ _It is time for you to return, Karen Page._ ”

 

“Oh, so I’m going back?” Karen laughed nervously. “I, uh, wasn’t sure what was going to happen,” she babbled, “if I would just stop, you know, existing, after this?”

 

“ _It would hardly be fulfilling a debt to you if you ceased to exist,_ ” Morgaine le Fay almost chastised in a motherly tone.

 

“Right, right,” Karen wrung her hands. “So...how is this going to work?”

 

“ _I will merge you with the version of yourself from your new, altered timeline at the point in time from which I moved you._ ”

 

Karen blinked rapidly. “What does that mean for my...past life?”

 

“ _You will keep your old memories as well as remember your new ones._ ”

Karen nodded slowly as she processed that. “That...doesn’t sound so bad,” she acknowledged. “Not that I wasn’t originally grateful, I just kinda agreed to this without knowing the full terms and…” Karen cast a glance at the only other person on the rooftop. “Could I just have one more minute before I go?”

 

“ _One more minute, and not a minute longer._ ” The enchantress’ words were final.

 

Karen gave a short nod before rushing to Madani. “Okay, remember what I told you,” she said urgently. “You have to make sure that Rollins, Wolfe, Schoonover, and Russo don’t know about the tape.”

 

“You were telling the truth,” Madani had the dawning realization. “About the entire thing. You’re from the future.”

 

“Yes,” Karen said impatiently. “And I need you to stop an illegal operation from killing a whole bunch of people.”

 

“You said Ahmed Zubair was already dead?” And something hopeless and broken flashed across Madani’s face.

 

“Yes, they killed him because he found out the truth and the soldiers on Cerberus don’t know the truth behind it, about the monsters they serve. And if you don’t stop those monsters, then Frank Castle’s family is going to be murdered in front of him.”

 

“Jesus,” Madani breathed and looked down at her feet.

 

“Just…” Karen said desperately, “please make sure that the Castle family doesn’t get caught in the crossfire.”

 

That had Madani looking back up. “Is that why you’re doing this?” Madani searched Karen’s face. “Because of Frank Castle?”

 

A heavy weight settled in Karen’s chest at the question. “He didn’t deserve what happened to him,” Karen said quietly. “And I...I love him too much to see him suffering like that again.”

 

With that, Dinah Madani took Karen Page in fully, without blinking. “Must be a hell of a guy,” she said finally.

 

And then the world was engulfed in green fire once again.

 

~~~

 

The “merging” of the two Karen Pages was...awful.

 

Okay, that was an understatement.

 

Merging was even worse than the Apparition time travel. It felt like she was colliding with herself at the speed of a bullet.

 

Fragments of memory exploded everywhere. Then, an undeniable force lifted them back together as if drawn together by a magnet. There was no concern whether the shards fit together; they were unmercifully pushed against one another before searing heat melted them into a jagged, lumpy form.

 

Karen felt like she was suffocating under the weight of the molten mess. She couldn’t take it all at once, and it was too hot to even touch it, let alone break it down into easier chunks.

 

She strained to contain it all in the darkness, and then she woke up.

 

She gasped awake in the middle of her kitchen, milk dripping off the edge of the counter, the milk carton knocked over.

 

Karen groaned as she rose to a sitting position on the floor, her back pressed against the dishwasher. She pinched the bridge of her nose as she tried to sort out her thoughts, her memories.

 

Fuck, she couldn’t tell which memory belonged to which version of herself.

 

With her eyes still closed, an instinct from deep down had her reaching for the counter behind her for her phone. She pressed the first number on speed dial and waited.

 

She didn’t have to wait long; the call was picked up on the second ring.

 

“Hey, Kare,” Din greeted her distractedly with cars honking in the background. “I promise I will be there for dinner tonight, I just have to meet with Sam to go over some reports, and then I’m all yours. Please tell me you’re not bailing on me and doing work on a Saturday night.”

 

“Madani,” Karen paused. “ _Din._ ”

 

There was dead silence on the other side of the line. Then, “ _Karen?_ Are you...back?” The last word was laced with a dozen meanings.

 

The sound of her voice brought a crystal-clear memory to the forefront. “Did you ‘accidentally’ knock me over in a coffee shop so we could meet?” Karen demanded, an edge of hysterical laughter in her voice.

 

“In my defense, you get so much coffee that it was the easiest way to introduce myself,” Madani said quickly. “Holy shit, I was wondering when you were coming back. I’m so sorry, but I have a meeting that I absolutely cannot cancel. I’ll leave early after that and come straight to you, okay?”

 

“Okay, sure,” Karen said absently. She barely heard the sound of the call disconnecting.

 

There was no doubt that she was still overwhelmed, but she could hold the entire snarl of thoughts without losing anything or hurting herself.

 

It was obvious that things really had changed; for one, the apartment she was in was both familiar and unfamiliar to her, in that this apartment was not one she’d ever inhabited in her past timeline.

 

Another was Madani; a part of her only considered the agent to simply be an acquaintance, if even that. She’d only ever talked to her when she was being interrogated.

 

But another part of her remembered accidentally knocking into a woman and then chatting with her over coffee. She remembered late night drinking parties and talking about everything and nothing and self-defense lessons together. She remembered her best friend.

 

What else had changed?

 

Karen took it back; a headache was coming on and she could not handle it.

 

She barely had the mental strength to take an Excederin before passing out in her bed. She didn’t even pull the covers up over herself.

 

~~~

 

The loud, obnoxious alarm of her phone woke her up.

 

Karen groaned loudly, rolling over and having every intention of ignoring it. And she would have, had the phone not immediately started ringing seconds after the alarm stopped.

 

Muttering expletives, Karen blindly grabbed her phone. “What?”

 

“Hey, I’m outside your door. Are you okay? I was worried when you didn’t answer,” Dinah said.

 

The headache was still there, but Karen pressed the heel of her palm to her left eye and grunted. “Yeah, just a massive headache. Took a nap. I’m coming now.”

 

Dinah was wearing a [gorgeous black jumpsuit](https://www.google.com/url?q=https://shop.nordstrom.com/s/wallis-embroidered-sleeve-jumpsuit/4862719?origin%3Dcategory-personalizedsort%26fashioncolor%3DBLACK&sa=D&ust=1536182321150000&usg=AFQjCNEC36Q9BaCYdP2q_Y9re41tyPDiEw) with a V-line and sheer lace sleeves. She stepped through the door and gave Karen a concerned and critical once-over. “Are you alright?”

 

Karen grimaced. “Not particularly. I feel like two different people are waging an all-out war for dominance in my head and neither of them are winning.”

 

Dinah winced in sympathy.

 

Karen rubbed her temples. “I can’t...sort between them, Dinah. I can’t figure out which memories to lean on, which ones to choose.”

 

“Listen, Kare, about Frank—”

 

Karen made a pained noise. “I can’t, I don’t think I can think about him right now, Mad—Din,” she said shakily. “Just...tell me. Did you save them? They weren’t killed at the carousel?”

 

“Yes, David and I managed to avoid that from happening,” the agent said reassuringly.

 

Karen sagged in relief. Good. Then...it was worth it. Worth this. “That’s all I need to hear.”

 

“I tried doing my best,” Dinah said softly. “David always gave me these weird looks for my ‘scary, oracle-like intuition’—he’s still trying to guess how I knew that video was going to be sent to him in the first place—but I was never sure if I was doing the right thing.”

 

At that, Karen looked up at her. “You did amazing,” she said fervently. “I put a lot of weight on your shoulders by coming to you. So, thank you.”

 

Dinah just shrugged. “There was no way I wasn’t going to do anything. Besides, I think you got the worst end of the deal out of all of us.”

 

Karen let out a bitter laugh. The sad part was, she couldn’t exactly disagree with that statement.

 

“Okay then.” Dinah eyed the tremble in her friend’s hand. “Does your head still hurt?”

 

Karen nodded in misery.

 

“Then we’re gonna move to hard liquor,” Dinah said firmly, pulling out a frankly massive bottle of vodka from her bag. “I had a feeling we might need this.”

 

Dinah pulled two shot glasses from the cupboard, and filled them up with the liquor. She passed one of the glasses to Karen. “We’re going to get tipsy,” she told the blonde, “and then you’re going to sleep so you can process. If that doesn’t cure a time travel headache, I don’t know what will. Not that we can ask.”

 

Karen took the glass and raised it. “Sounds like the best plan I’ve heard in a while,” she said, before tipping the shot back. It slid smoothly down her throat.

 

~~~

 

Dinah gave good advice. When Karen woke up the next morning, the storm in her mind had settled some, and she felt better able to get through the day. She texted Dinah to thank her for the night before, then began doing the chores she’d intended to do today before getting mind-melted with her previous self: washing the dishes, doing laundry, vacuuming the floor.

 

The day flew by quickly and, before Karen knew it, the sun was falling over the New York skyline.

 

Strangely enraptured by the reddening light covering the streets, Karen found herself completely still as she watched people walk along the street. They were all oblivious to their surroundings, that night was falling and someone was watching them.

 

A sudden urge pounced on her, sinking its teeth into her and not letting go. She found herself grabbing her keys and purse without thought, checking that her .380 was tucked inside. Then, she was out the door.

 

She flagged a cab, taking care to give the driver an intersection instead of an address. She made no effort to initiate conversation, simultaneously taking in the view from the window while also taking in nothing.

 

When the driver finally pulled up to the curve, she thanked him. She waited until the yellow car turned the corner, then, arms folded tightly around her, she walked down the street.

 

She stopped in front of a lovely three-story house with gables over the entrance, a door with paned windows, and the upper floor.

 

There was a bicycle lying on its side at the foot of the steps, as well as a football and soccer ball left sitting on the front lawn. There was an open box of chalk on the porch.

 

This was Frank’s new life. _No,_ Karen corrected herself, _not new_. The life Frank was always meant to have. There were hints of the love and laughter that Karen had spotted whenever Frank had talked about his baby girl and his son.

 

It was no longer in the past; it was reality now.

 

Karen closed her eyes, the finality of it settling into her bones.

 

_Be happy, Frank._

 

Karen walked away.

 

~~~

 

Going back to work felt entirely different, yet exactly the same.

 

She had her same office at _The Bulletin_ , had the same coworkers greeting her with a smile over morning coffee. She had Ellison storming in, looking exactly the same as she remembered, hounding her for her new story.

 

The different thing was that her new story—one about the Yakuza and their drug dealings to high-profile politicians—was one that she’d done in her old timeline two years ago. And soon afterwards, The Punisher had killed them all in a massive shootout.

 

After her headache had settled down for the most part, Karen had woken up early and attempted to skim the major headlines of the past four years. A lot of the old gangs and corruption still stalked the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. Karen found dozens of familiar faces appearing in promotional and charity events instead of mugshots or obituaries.

 

It was odd, seeing how much of a difference The Punisher had made in her old timeline. She had received so much judgment for her belief that The Punisher was doing some good—not just from strangers, but also her coworkers and friends. She’d received more than one talk from Foggy and Matt about Frank, and they hadn’t listened to her arguments at all.

 

This timeline, though… This timeline was living proof that she had been right.

 

Crime might have still existed in the old timeline, but women felt safe enough to walk home by themselves at midnight. Gangsters, murderers, rapists, and other scum always looked over their shoulders, their fearful whispers echoing through the streets. What the general public considered a monster may have terrorized Hell’s Kitchen, but that monster had slaughtered worse monsters.

 

Those monsters were not only alive here, but _thriving_. And with that knowledge came a sick feeling in Karen’s stomach.

 

_Frank, if only you could see how much of a difference you’d made._

 

A phone interrupted Karen’s wistful thoughts. Checking the caller ID, a small smile appeared on her face.

 

“Why didn’t you show up for coffee?” a voice whined when she answered the call. “I looked like a loser by myself with two coffees at a table.”

 

“You look far too good in that suit for anyone to call a loser,” Karen joked lightly.

 

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Ms. Page,” Foggy retorted.

 

“I’m sorry,” Karen sighed, dropping the humor. “I’ve gotten hung up on this story I’m working on and I lost track of time. Rain check?”

 

Foggy sighed back dramatically. “I guess I can find time.”

 

“I mean, I know you’re some big-shot lawyer now, so I’m sure you barely have the time to pencil me in.”

 

“My week, so booked. This Wednesday okay?”

 

“Wednesday sounds perfect.” Karen was genuinely excited to see him. She’d been unsure which relationships would carry over into this timeline.

 

Thankfully (or un-thankfully, depending on your perspective), Wilson Fisk still appeared to be a power-hungry Kingpin, regardless of whichever timeline you were in. Karen’s dual memories practically matched up until the point where Fisk was put into custody, and the whole Hand issue had also happened in the new timeline, with the Defenders stopping them. Matt was still presumed dead, and Karen felt guilty for letting Foggy think he was, but from the vague answers she’d gotten from Matt from when he had returned originally, he had needed the time to heal and find some answers. She wouldn’t deprive him of that in this timeline.

 

But then, there were other things to worry about when it came to comparing timelines… Was it disturbing that she was comforted by the fact that the other version of herself had killed Wesley and had suffered for it the same way? They both felt so alone while being surrounded by so many people.

 

Both loved and unloved. The story of all her lives.

 

Ellison poked his head into her office.

 

“Hey, Foggy, I gotta go,” Karen said, breaking away from her musings, “I’ll see you on Wednesday.” She hung up. “Hey, what’s up?” she greeted her boss.

 

Ellison shrugged as he moved to stand in front of her desk. “Just wanted to check in, see how you’re doing.” He tapped his fingers on the back of a chair. “You seem kind of distracted this morning.”

 

Damn Ellison for being such a good journalist and sussing out her moods.

 

“I’m fine,” Karen insisted. “Just busy with a story.”

 

“Need anything?”

 

Karen shook her head. “Should be fine.”

 

He nodded slowly. “Okay.” He pushed himself back. “Keep me posted.”

“Will do.” She watched him leave.

 

As soon as he was gone, Karen pulled out the notes from her bag. It was time to take down the Yakuza for the second time.

 

Slipping into a familiar investigative mindset, Karen set to work.

 

~~~

 

In the following weeks since the Merging, as Karen had dubbed it, she had made it her life’s mission to get herself sorted in this timeline, to at least have some decent roots in who she was and what her past was. To recognize her time in the original timeline for what it was: a life, one that she was never getting back, one that she needed to move on from.

 

That plan was given a major shake when she spotted Frank and Lisa walking across the street, chatting and smiling, with Frank’s arm wrapped around his daughter in a close embrace.

 

At the sight of them, Karen had hurried along quickly, not letting herself look back. She’d then ducked into an alleyway and had tried to stem the memories and emotions that came from seeing them together. Happy.

 

It was both everything she wanted and the most painful thing to witness.

 

But it was living proof that Karen had made the right decision. So she had squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and continued down the street.

 

She’d expected that to be the last time she’d see him.

 

Except it turned out to be the opposite. Instead of never seeing him, she saw him _everywhere_.

 

In the park, running with a dog at his heels.

 

In the grocery store, with Frank Jr. pushing the cart like a skateboard and Lisa running back and forth to fetch items.

 

In what had been Frank and Karen’s favorite coffee shop, before.

 

Each time, her heart constricted as if it were being wrung out to dry, and she would flee, abandoning any task that drew her too close to them. She’d even knocked over a couple people in her haste.

 

It figured that the universe would try to get back at her for changing things. She’d done something big by manipulating time to do what she wished, and higher forces were angry at her for it. And so they were driving her and Frank together _all the damn time_.

 

But Karen dealt with it. She swallowed down the pain and shouldered on with her life, because that was the only thing she could do. Move on.

 

~~~

 

During one writing-intensive work session in her office, Karen had checked her phone to mark the date for her notes, and discovered that it was two days away from when the Castle family shooting had happened.

 

Minutes later, she was walking out of the office. Someone may have called her, but she didn’t stop to check.

 

She didn’t know what she was doing, where she was going, until she ended up at the carousel.

 

The place where it had all begun.

 

Sitting on a bench at three o’clock in the afternoon on a Tuesday, Karen leaned forward, buried her face in her hands, and _broke_.

 

She cried and cried and cried because, as much as she had tried, she found herself regretting what she’d done. Changing the past. She had walked away from Frank, had left behind something good and beautiful. Something that had healed a part of her she thought would always bleed, an open wound. She had given it up to do the right thing, the good thing, but she couldn’t take comfort in that when she _ached_ to go back.

 

She missed him so much.

 

“Excuse me, ma’am, is this seat taken?”

 

For a split second, Karen thought she was hallucinating that voice. She raised her head to find the man she was mourning standing in front of her, his eyes on her and a gentle smile on his face.

 

She couldn’t help but gape at him. Had she inadvertently summoned him or something? Was someone punking her? Or that he remembered what had happened in his past life? Because what were the odds of the man she’d altered time for to approach her at a park?

 

He was still smiling at her, and Karen realized he was still waiting for her to answer. She jerked her back straight, her hands wiping away the evidence of her tears. “No, not at all,” she assured him, her voice cracking.

 

With her permission, he nodded and sat down, a foot of space between them. Karen dabbed at her eyelids, trying to determine if her mascara had run at all.

 

A plain white handkerchief appeared in front of her. Karen blinked at it, then unbiddingly took the offering with a smile of disbelief. “I didn’t know that anyone still carried these.”

 

Frank, his elbows on his thighs, shrugged casually. “I’m old-fashioned that way.”

 

Karen ran the cloth underneath her eyes. “Well, I appreciate it.”

 

“Of course, ma’am.” Frank hesitated. “I don’t want to step into business I’m not welcome in, but I hate to see a woman looking so down.”

 

That brought a fresh wave of tears, even as she smiled. Of course Frank would stop and comfort her because he simply couldn’t stand to see women crying. The sap.

 

“I’m fine, it’s just…” She couldn’t stop the words from pouring out of her. “I lost someone that I loved, and I’ve tried _so_ hard to just...move on and continue through the motions. But I miss him so much it hurts and I don’t know if it’ll ever stop.”

 

Laughter drifted from the carousel, and the joyful music entertwined with it as the carousel spun the kids around.

 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” His voice was a soft rumble. “I’ve felt the same way, once. I lost my wife. Been a couple years now.”

 

Karen’s breath froze in her chest. Frank, oblivious, continued, “I thought I would never stop grieving. That pain was always there and I thought it would never go away. But it did. I missed her, I still do, but the hurt that came with it faded. Just gotta find something you care about and hold onto it. Hold onto it with both hands and never let go. That’s what I did with my kids.”

 

Goosebumps tingled across her skin at the familiar words, her mind unwittingly going back to a diner booth with the same man saying those words word for word with a black baseball cap his only disguise and his face mottled purple. But instead of a gaunt, haunted face, she had a blemish-free one, his eyes clear.

 

She would likely take comfort in that, but later. First, she had to know...Maria…

 

Frank seemed slightly surprised when she stood up abruptly and returned his handkerchief, neatly folded. “I have to go. Thank you, Frank, for your words and the handkerchief.”

 

She walked away, not seeing his eyebrows furrowed in confusion behind her. Otherwise, she would have caught her mistake.

 

~~~

 

“You lied to me!” was the first thing Karen said when Dinah opened the door.

 

Karen didn’t need to elaborate. Dinah winced. “Let me explain.”

 

“You made me think she was alive! That they were all alive! That Maria was safe and happy with her family.”

 

“And she _was_ , until she got into the accident.”

 

That stopped Karen’s tirade. “An accident?” Karen repeated.

 

“A car accident. Drunk driver T-boned their car. Maria was the only person in the vehicle, and both drivers were killed on impact.”

 

Karen absorbed that silently.

 

Dinah filled in the new silence. “I made sure that the story was legitimate, that it really had been a drunk driver too intoxicated to see the red light. I was going to tell you, I promise. But you were overwhelmed, Kare, barely knew who you were. You said yourself that you needed to sort out what was in  your head, and I wasn’t about to give you a setback.”  
  
In a daze, Karen walked to sit down on the couch. She had naively assumed that saving the Castle family from that day in the park would protect them from all other misfortune. Or from a drunk driver.

 

“I’m sorry if you feel as if I’ve deceived you, but I was trying to keep your wellbeing in mind.”

 

Karen sighed in defeat. “Yeah, I know, Dinah. Thank you. I just wish…”

 

“It was a miracle that you managed to save Lisa and Frank Jr.” Dinah pointed out. Karen got the message: _Don’t go wishing for more miracles. You’ll only end up disappointed._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please please please let me know your thoughts on this work - whether it's a simple heart or a long, incoherent essay, I will love and cherish it!!!


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